


there's something so wretched about this, something so precious about this

by tuomniia



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: AU, F/F, Mutual Pining, Other, Pining, TLOU AU, apocalypse au, blood tw, injury tw, u know i genuinely hate tagging like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29474664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuomniia/pseuds/tuomniia
Summary: TWC/TLOU AU / APOC!AU | But there had been one moment. One horrible, gut-wrenching, heart stopping moment when Cameron thought she was going to lose. Before Cameron had gotten back to their feet and drove their knife blade as deep as they could into its back. It had sucked the air from their lungs. Poured ice water into their veins. For a moment, nothing else mattered except that Ava was going to die.
Relationships: Detective/Ava du Mortain, Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Kudos: 2





	there's something so wretched about this, something so precious about this

The hot water hisses loudly in their ears, and steam furls up from where the water collects, swirling, and draining at their feet. Long streaks of red taint the water that runs off Cameron’s skin. 

Bracing a bloody hand against the aging tile of the shower wall, they release a long shuddering breath and allow the hot water to pummel the tension out of their shoulders.

They don’t have long before the hot water runs out – hot water they only have because they shoulder the burden of leadership– but they need a minute. Just one. God, they almost died today. The blood from their wounds dying the water merging hues of pink and red is evidence enough of that. 

The worst part isn’t even the near death experience, or the long jagged wound that has opened wide on their shoulder— the one that wraps around from their collar bone to their spine, over their neck. The same that brings tears to their eyes any time they reach forward, or any higher than chest level. It stings. It aches, and it burns at its core. It seeps deep, thick red anytime they move too much. No, this doesn’t really concern them. The wound will heal. It’ll be just another scar for the collection.

No. No. The worst part was watching that shambler pin Ava to the wall. It’s blistering, bloody hands wrapping around her neck and squeeze. How it almost broke her neck with the force it used to hold her there. Teeth gnashing, acidic spores eating at her skin. 

Too close. It had been _too close_.

She won the fight, of course she did. She’s Ava, she’s a wall of muscle. She’s thee combat expert. She’s got super senses, heightened strength and speed. She’s a one-woman army. 

Ava won the fight because she’s _Ava_. 

But there had been one moment. One horrible, gut-wrenching, heart stopping moment when Cameron thought she was going to lose. Before Cameron had gotten back to their feet and drove their knife blade as deep as they could into its back. It had sucked the air from their lungs. Poured ice water into their veins. For a moment, nothing else mattered except that Ava was going to die. 

And then Cameron would have to learn how to live without her. When had she become this crucial? How had it happened? It’s shaken them, and so they need a minute. 

But she isn’t dead. She’s alive. Alive, and in the next room inventorying all the supplies they scavenged while out on a run together. Breathing. Wounds already healed. 

Cameron had almost died too. They had been trapped, shoved up against a wall of broken pipes. Pinned there by the same shambler that had almost killed Ava. When it whirled around to swing at them for driving cold steel in between its ribs. But they almost die several times a month, the world being what it is, and this doesn’t shake them.

The force of its body had pushed them through the pipes— and had led to the wound that wraps over their torso. Broken, razor edges of pipes tearing their skin as easily as wet paper. They only survived because Ava had been there to pull it off them before it could do anything too serious. 

They need just a moment. 

Eventually the hot water does run out, but they’re lost in thought, in memories of Ava almost dying, how they’re going to deal with the inevitable food shortage in the coming winter, and how the Roundsky family need a new place to stay because their current home is too close to the wall and their kids can’t sleep. Because they hear the infected in the woods. Warning signs of a horde. 

Voices outside the bathroom door catch their attention and pull them back into the present. There’s so much to do, and they keep seeing that bloody, blistered hand holding her against the wall. 

Sighing, Cameron tugs on their fresh clothes. There are things to do, problems to solve, and someone should probably stitch their shoulder before it gets infected. They can’t worry about the agent that’s probably going to move on when winter ends. 

“– what are you implying?” 

They hesitate, hand hovering over the door handle. They recognize the voice. It’s hers. And Felix, but that arrives as a slow afterthought.

“Well Ava, my dear friend…you seem to have formed certain attachments to the leader of Wayhaven.” 

Silence, drawing on for several beats of their heart. 

“We’ve all grown closer with them, we work closely together.”

“Yeah, sure. We all love them.” A moment passes, and Cameron frowns to themselves. “Well Morgan is up for debate. But none of us have gotten as close as you, though.” 

Cameron shifts, swallowing hard.

“I… Admire them.” 

“Are you sure admiration is the right word?” 

“Felix–” 

“Oh come on! Everyone knows you have feelings for Cam except for Cam. And that’s only because–”  
  
“ _Felix.”_

Silence.   
  
Cameron has to close their eyes, doing their best to settle the rapid beating inside their chest. Not wanting to be heard, but they suspect that the unit members are too focused on their conversation to notice how close to the door Cameron is currently standing. They’ve become practically pressed up right against it.

“You should just tell them.” Felix continues, softer this time. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yeah, you can.” 

They sigh quietly to themselves, continuing to stare at the door handle. Footsteps fade away back down the hall, so they push the bathroom door open to try and sneak away. No longer wishing to be trapped in the steamy bathroom. 

It’s hard to breathe. The air has thickened into something hot and soupy. It gets stuck in their chest and pulls tight ropes around their lungs. They need to breathe. To process what they just heard. 

_God. Ava. Feelings? For me?_

It takes a lot of self-control to try and keep the smile from blooming on their lips. 

As they exit the bathroom, they don’t look up. They should have, but they don’t. 

Instead of glancing up and seeing that Ava is still standing right outside the door, they crash into her. Both stumble to recapture their balance. She’s just as much of a brick wall as she’s always been.

“Ah— shit. Sorry.” They mumble, stepping back several paces. 

Ava smooths her hands over the new folds in her shirt. “It’s alright.” 

Cameron chances a look up from the floor, to see her expression. 

Ava stands stiffly, having returned to gripping the railing and staring down to the floor below, where Cameron can see Felix sitting at their kitchen table talking to Nat. Though, they can’t hear the conversation with any clarity; they’re sure that Ava can. 

“Okay.” Cameron clears their throat, trying to clear the awkwardness that is thick in the space between them. “Well I’m just gonna go–” 

“How is your shoulder?” Ava interrupts, glancing at them. The light from the hall window catches her eye, the flash is bright green. 

They shift their weight, holding their bloody clothing closer against them. Can she smell it? Is it bothersome? 

“It’s fine, sorry, I’ll get these washed as soon as I can.” They wince at the sound of their own voice, how it’s hoarse with exhaustion and emotion from overhearing the earlier conversation. 

Ava frowns, turning to rest her hip against the aging wood. She fidgets a little, her hands coming up, then coming down to rest at her side. Then coming up to cross over her chest– as though she doesn’t know where to put them. “It’s fine, you needn’t worry about it.”

“Right– well same for the shoulder. You don’t need to worry.” They smile, unable to help it. 

“You’re going to get it looked at, right?” 

“Yeah, I was on my way to see the town doc now actually.” They sigh, poorly hiding a wince when their shoulder begins to ache once more. 

Ava catches the wince, and her frown deepens if that is at all possible. “I can look at it for you, save you the journey.” 

“You don’t have to, it’s fine. I have to check on the–” Ava shifts off the railing and takes a step closer. Her hand coming to rest on their elbow. Gently, but firmly, turning them towards their bedroom. 

“I insist.” Her voice matches her touch. 

Cameron sighs as heavily as they can, “Fine, but if you mess me up, you’re the one who gets to face Tina’s wrath.” 

Ava scoffs, “That woman doesn’t scare me.”

“Well, she should.” They smirk, allowing themselves to be guided into their room. 

Their room is warmer than the rest of the small house, thanks to the small wood burning oven they had jerry rigged to chase the chill away in the winter. They’re thankful for it because their skin and hair are still damp from the shower, and they’ve been struggling not to shiver ever since leaving the steaming bathroom. Otherwise, their room is cramped and full of clutter and various objects they’ve collected through the years. But tidy, organized. Clean. Lived in.

Unfortunately, due to their role as the primary decision maker for Wayhaven, they don’t get to spend as much time alone in here as they would like. 

“Wait here, I’ll grab the needed supplies.” Without waiting for a reply, Ava steps back out of the room. Leaving Cameron alone in the warm space. 

They sigh, watching her go. Does she know Cameron heard almost every word? Is she pretending? She must be. Ava isn’t stupid. They bite their lip, trying to puzzle it out. Does it even matter? Ava is flighty. They may not have known exactly how she feels, but they have noticed how often she pulls away. The ache it leaves behind.

Instead of working themselves further into that line of thought and potentially spinning themselves out– they take the time it takes for Ava to return to toss their bloody clothes into their laundry hamper. They hesitate, just a moment, then put a few more articles of their clothing– even though they’re clean– on top of the bloodied ones. Hopefully, it’ll at least mask the scent of their blood a little. Ava said it was fine, but they still don’t want to make it any harder than it needs to be. 

Just as they finish putting the lid back on the hamper, they hear Ava stride confidently back into the room. She pauses a moment, then shuts the door behind her. Cameron raises a brow at her. 

“You have to take off your shirt.” She explains after a beat, busying herself with the small collection of items she’s brought back with her. 

Thinking that they’d have to walk outside through the snow to get to the town doctor, they’d put a shirt on. Of course, the fabric covers most of the wound. And it’s cold. Frost still clings to the ground wherever the sunlight doesn’t touch. The early signs of winter. 

“Right–” They try to tug their shirt back up over their shoulders, and get it about halfway up before they can’t manoeuvre anymore. They gasp, unable to help it when the hem of the fabric rubs against the raw edges of the gash. 

They can’t see past the fabric, and they can’t move their shoulder anymore to wiggle out of it. The pain flares too badly every time they try. How had they managed to get the damned thing on in the first place?

“Ava…” They mutter, face heating in shame. “I’m stuck.” 

They hear her breath, soft. Amused. “Do you require some help?” 

Cameron winces again as they try one last time to free themselves. “Please.” It hurts to say, physically. Ashamed that they can’t get their own damned shirt off themselves. 

The sound of Ava stepping close makes them wince. Unexpectedly, they can feel the heat of her just inches away. Though they suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise. Warmer than the oven just a foot away from their legs. Feel summery fingers graze the skin of their arms when she grips the fabric and gently tugs until it comes loose. They are so, so caught up by how gentle she is. Not just now, but always. 

Upon meeting Ava, they never would have guessed that her touches would always be this featherlight. They assumed that with all that muscle packed onto her frame, she’d be rough. As rough as all her edges. That it would always hurt when she touched them, that they’d bleed. But it doesn’t, and they don’t. Her hold is always forgiving and kind. Leaving only pleasant tingling in their wake instead of bruises. 

Especially now, unable to see her, they’re especially aware of the gracing presence of her hands against their exposed skin. 

She’s slower than she needs to be, they think. And Cameron shivers every time she touches them. But she does eventually pull the shirt off their head, finally. Cameron blinks at the sudden brightness and lowers their arm to shield their eyes as they adjust. In the sudden flare of light, they think they see Ava’s eyes lingering, trailing down from their neck to their bare stomach. 

They’ve never had anything to hide, nor felt that there’s anything to be particularly proud of. They simply, just are. They’re slim– too slim, bordering on scrawny. Covered in scars, both fresh and old. And there certainly isn’t any muscle to be proud of. The only thing of note is maybe the scars of surgery– the one that removed the uncomfortable weight from their chest, removing what had twisted their perception of themselves so painfully that they just couldn’t live with them anymore– received just before all hell broke loose and the world fell apart. They’re not ashamed of anything, but there’s nothing to be proud of.

But to their surprise, her eyes glance over those scars as though they’re nothing. They feel unusually exposed and vulnerable. Cameron shifts awkwardly, folding their arms self-consciously over their chest. Ignoring the tug of their wound to favour covering themselves.

Ava seems to snap out of whatever thoughts she had been having and sets their shirt on their bed, which is just next to them. Folding it first, because she’s Ava. They almost smile. 

“Alright,” she rasps, clearing her throat softly before continuing. “sit down and let me take a proper look.” 

Nodding, they sit themselves on the edge of the bed. “If you don’t want to do this, I’m sure that Nat would be happy to do it instead.” 

Ava shakes her head, pulling clean white gauze, surgical thread, an intimidatingly curved needle, and scissors before sitting just behind Cameron. Needing to tuck her leg under herself to fit. Bed springs groan at the extra weight. “Nat is unavailable.”

It’s a lie. Cameron knows it, and they’re sure that Ava knows they know it. Nat is downstairs at the kitchen table, with Felix. 

They say nothing though, happy to be near Ava instead. 

They shift, and attempt to get comfortable. Or that would have been the cover story. The reality is that Ava’s legs are both pressed against their back and thigh, and she’s close. Feels her breath on their shoulder as she inspects the parts of the wound that spread onto their back. Feel her fingers touch the edges, gentle as ever, checking them. It still stings, but sweetly.

Unable to bear the weight of the silence, they draw a deep breath and shift their gaze to the ceiling. “So, am I gonna live, doctor?” 

Ava pulls her hand away quickly, and they try not to feel too disappointed. “Possibly.” 

“Only possibly? 

“Well, if you continue to be as reckless as you are–”   
  
“Ugh,” They groan, “Stop. I know. You lecture me every chance you get.” 

“Only because you never listen to me.” 

“It’s hard to avoid getting hurt nowadays.” 

Ava pulls on Cameron’s uninjured shoulder to force them to turn around. At least, enough to make eye contact. 

“You are more prone to injury than anyone I have ever met. I just want you to be safe.” 

“Impressive, really. Considering you’re ancient.” They smirk, trying to ease the tension that’s worked itself into Ava’s expression. “But it’s not like I go out and ask for these things to happen.”

Ava hums, no less displeased than she was moments ago. “Turn around, let me work.” 

“Grump.” They huff, smirking wider at her, but they abide and turn to face the oven again.   
  
“You’re insufferable.” Ava breathes, dabbing the wound with what Cameron knows is antiseptic by the way it stings. 

Cameron laughs, fighting the urge to turn around again. “Have you met you?” 

Ava doesn’t reply, but they know she’s smiling. Can feel the shine of it in the atmosphere they find themselves in. From there, they fall into a comfortable silence. Ava slowly pushing thread through the torn flesh of their back. Pushing, pulling, tying, cutting, and repeating. Until she gets so far up the wound that Cameron has to turn around completely for her to reach the parts that spread over their collarbones. 

Before she asks Cameron to move though, she feels Ava tracing over one of the healed scars on their back. They can’t see, but they think it’s the one they got on patrol. When a clicker had spooked the horses, and Cameron had fallen and landed on broken glass. Her touch is so soft that they almost can’t figure out what the sensation is. Because it feels like a cross breeze on uncovered skin. It makes their breath hitch in their throat, though, and they want to lean back into it. But they don’t, they draw a deep breath instead, and Ava pulls her hand away. The spell broken.

Stiff from sitting still so long, they turn to face her. Also needing to tuck one of their legs under them to be close enough for Ava to work. Their legs press together, but she doesn’t draw away. The heat of her seeps through the fabric of their jeans. It’s not enough.

Wordlessly, Ava leans forward again to begin pulling the edges of the cut together with her needle and thread. She is single-minded in her focus, and Cameron takes this opportunity to look at her. To not think about how her arm is braced on their shoulder, and how the base of her palm rests on their collar. They’ve never been this close for any extended amount of time. This close, they can count the shades of green in her eyes. All pale, icy, cool. Can see that there are tiny flecks of pale gold, just a few. Can count them. The ridge of her brows, and the lines of her nose. The gentle flexing of muscles in her neck and jaw while she works. The strands of blonde hair that have fallen from its tight knot, and hang haphazardly in front of her eyes. Has she even noticed? 

Their fingers itch to brush them away.

Cameron takes a deep, steadying breath, and Ava glances away from her work to meet their eyes. She says nothing. She’s just checking to see if they’re alright. Her brows knit together, so slightly that if Cameron weren’t this close, close enough to feel steady breath on their neck, they wouldn’t have noticed. 

The edges of their mouth move up on instinct. Ava’s gaze drops to their mouth, lingers there for a heavy moment, then moves back to their shoulder. 

Their heart squeezes in their chest. _She has feelings for me._

_I have feelings for her too._

“So,” they start, glancing away to look at anything but Ava. Ava and her gorgeous face. Ava and her gorgeous face that’s close enough to touch. To kiss. The wanting of it flares unbearably inside their chest. “You and Felix were pretty loud earlier.” 

Ava’s hands freeze on, the tip of the needle resting against their collar. It stings, but they ignore it. “I apologize if we disturbed you.” 

“I wasn’t disturbed.” 

Ava says nothing, resuming her stitching. Though her shoulders have tensed, and her eyes are fixated harder than they were before. Careful movements slower than before.

“So do you?” They press, aware that they’re probably just fanning flame. But not caring. 

Her jaw tightens, and her words are clipped. “Do I what?” 

Have feelings for me. They almost say, but manage to bite it back. “Admire me.” 

Ava doesn’t reply until she finishes tying her last stitch. Even then, she takes her time setting down her materials on the bedspread under them. And then, she doesn’t look up to meet their eyes. If Cameron didn’t know Ava better, they’d think she was being shy. But Ava doesn’t really do shy. She’s thinking.

The silence is deafening. 

“Of course I do.” 

“Really? You? Ava du Mortain, nine-hundred year old vampire? Combat exert with an ego to match?” Cameron grins, unable to help it. “Admire me?”

She looks up, finally. “Was there ever any doubt?” Meaning, woven thickly into the spaces between her words, makes Cameron’s heart stutter. 

“Sometimes it’s hard to get a read on you. You’re not exactly an open book.” 

Ava smiles then, an actual smile. It almost knocks Cameron breathless. 

“I admire you very much.” Her eyes linger longer than they need to, then she looks back down to the freshly stitched wound. “Now, sit still while I bandage this.” 

Cameron groans, “No,” they quip, standing and grabbing a button-up from one of the drawers of their dresser. “I have things to do.” 

“Cameron.” Ava sounds tired, reaching for their arm to pull them back, but they pull away before she can. 

They smirk at her and pull open the bedroom door. 

Resigning to Cameron’s terrible sense of self-care, she stands as well. Leaving the scattered supplies on their bed– strange, but they pay it no real mind. She joins Cameron at the door instead, shaking her head. “Impossible.” 

“Yeah.” They grin. “You love me though.” 

“Mhm.”

Acting on impulse, they step closer and stand on their toes to kiss her cheek quickly, before she had a chance to flee. She smells of home.

Without waiting to see her reaction, they turn and race down the stairs. Flying out the front door, into the chilled autumn air before Felix or Nat can comment on the flush of their face. They’ve forgotten their coat, and where exactly they’re supposed to be headed. They’re going to arrive wherever they decide to go shivering and in need of a hot beverage.

Worth it, though, they think to themselves. Unable to keep the smile from their face any longer. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @ tuomniia


End file.
